<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Under the Bedrock by PatchworkFFics</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28668777">Under the Bedrock</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/PatchworkFFics/pseuds/PatchworkFFics'>PatchworkFFics</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Found family but he's really bad at finding things, Gen, MINOR DESCRIPTIONS OF VIOLENCE, Mentions of Blood, Piglins legally have culture now</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 05:00:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,437</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28668777</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/PatchworkFFics/pseuds/PatchworkFFics</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The nether has rebuilt itself since Techno lived there as a piglet, finding it less of a desolate wasteland then he remembered. Shaking away some of the shame he felt, knowing his species caused the collapse of the whole dimension, he finds a better faction of Piglin that makes him almost wish he'd stayed despite the plague and famine that destroyed the place. It hurt being welcomed into a culture he should have known more about.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Under the Bedrock</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hey this is like my first proper fic lol,<br/>I just really like writing mob lore so, yknow might as well write it with everyones favorite pig<br/>Bc we've already got enough humanized anime prince Techno around</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Techno still didn’t really understand the new vegetation and creatures in the nether. The fact the place had bounced back from the horrible waste it once was, that his people had at least partially overcome the plague that had almost destroyed any trace of what they once were. And every time he revisited it to get materials. There was almost a strange jealousy for the hellscape he once resented as a place of birth. It made him wish he’d been around when the Piglins had begun to recover, and build new structures. He wished he had a better understanding of what was his native language. But there was no changing that now. Techno had been ripped away from his family by sickness, and he wasn’t going to get that back.</p>
<p>	It wasn’t just the sickness though. It’s not like zombification springs out of nowhere over night. Not like entire species of plants almost completely die out on a whim. Fortresses don’t just get abandoned and left to rot, seemingly built like no one. He knew what had brought the downfall. He knew enough of his native language to have read through the history books. </p>
<p>	That’s what had always stopped him from trying to reconnect. He knew they’d be doomed to repeat the same mistakes they always had. Maybe it was the nature of the nether that left the Piglin civilization to fall to corruption again and again. Maybe it was simple biology. Techno had always struggled with the fact that maybe he had this internal greed and bloodlust. And he did. It just always felt painful to connect it to something he could never control. </p>
<p>	But seeing his friends in the overworld make the same mistakes, of corruption and war. Greed, and violence. It quelled his fears. It was just the nature of any sentient being, not just of Piglins. Which, actually was worse if he really thought about it, but hey at least he wasn’t the only asshole. And maybe being self aware could mean he could fix it. </p>
<p>                                              --------------------------------------------------------</p>
<p>	Some factions of Piglins, however, did impress him. He almost smiled as he saw the hanging banners, depicting shattered skulls and gilded bones. It was horribly barbaric, yes. And they certainly loved their gore and guts and violence. But this was different to other Piglin societies. They did not fight for scraps at the table of a king. They did not guard a bastion with no explanation of why they were there. They did not have a leader to tell them what to do. They were a group that simply lived together. On mutual respect, and threats of mass violence. </p>
<p>	Something Techno could respect. </p>
<p>	Of course, when he’d first happened upon them. They saw him as some king coming to try and take claim to their land. Which was absolutely not what he was doing. Techno was just doing a bit of mining and collecting the skulls of Wither Skeletons for no particular reason. He still remembers the embarrassment of trying to explain himself through broken Piglish. He was usually a bloodthirsty murderer, but he’d never destroy the one place that made him proud to be what he was. That made it worth all the awkward snorting when he laughed, or being looked at as less intelligent or sentient because of what he was. </p>
<p>	It felt like a family, when he could walk through the halls. Some would nod at him. A few would mutter out their hellos, some in the best English they could possibly manage. The ladder makes him more emotional then he’d like to admit. He would never tell a single person in the overworld about this place. It was his get away zone. Bathed in Anarchy and a culture he had always begged to have a part in.  </p>
<p>	Also, they would probably get brutally murdered if they came here anyways. Piglins are pretty territorial. </p>
<p>                                             -------------------------------------------</p>
<p>	Honestly Techno still wasn’t used to how he was treated at the reclaimed fortress. See, he used to feel like a total outsider, and for good reason too. They would sneer when he came by, and oink things under their breath that Techno could roughly understand. They assumed he was soft, from growing up in the overworld, and spoiled from how he dressed. </p>
<p>	But that had all changed on the third time he had visited. When he was almost going to give up trying to make any kind of friends. It was more effort he’d put into socializing then with anyone else. Maybe it was because they felt like family. And Techno didn’t have a family, no matter how many times he would be called a brother by Wilbur or Tommy. Phil was his friend, not his father. </p>
<p>	Techno had gently nudged his way through a small crowd, a record spinning on loop somewhere in the distance. He never expected Piglin’s to have such a love for music. But, what he did find was pretty well expected. Past the crowd was an arena of some kind. He’d seen it before of course. It wasn’t anything special, a soul soil pit with a few areas of cover and plenty of lava pools. </p>
<p>	There were three in the ring. A two versus one. The two, more petite piglins looked almost identical, maybe they were twins.Techno didn’t actually know a lot about the genetics of his own species. Were they born in litters like normal pigs? He didn’t want to think about that. The one on his own almost towered over half the crowd, a total brute. He was tall and extremely stocky. Two sets of tusks instead of the normal one that poked over the lips. </p>
<p>	If he wasn’t Technoblade, he might have been intimidated by him. </p>
<p>	Of course, more interestingly, there was a betting table. Stacks of gold bet on the big guy to win, of course. He seemed to be some kind of champion, a household name of sorts. If Techno could read Piglish correctly, and he was pretty confident that he could, the guy's name seemed to be Devourer. Or Devine. Basically something with a Dev in it. Techno didn’t really know how piglin names were supposed to sound anyways. </p>
<p>	And while he was trying to figure out exactly what the name of the brute was, the two potential twins had gotten their heads basically smashed in. Which didn’t really bug him. It was a more mild surprise than anything else. How did they plan on getting all the blood out of that soul soil? Maybe like a litter box, they’d rake it or something. Whatever, those two would respawn anyways. It wasn’t important enough to damage their souls. </p>
<p>	“You.” <br/>One of the people at the tip booth shouted towards him. He wasn’t expecting to have a conversation here, but alright. He could pretend to be bilingual to the best of his abilities. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>	“Heh?” Or, Techno could actually just make generic noises instead of trying to use his words, which was a lot easier. The biggest issue was hopefully understanding what he was being asked. And if it got violent, he always had a tight grip on the sword at this hip.  </p>
<p>	“Do you fight?” </p>
<p>	And it had all spiraled from there. Techno wouldn’t call himself competitive. Just wildly focused on being number one no matter what being number one means. And he had the skills to back it up. He had to have wasted nearly a chest’s worth of glowstone sending pig after pig back to the respawn beacon in the heart of the fortress. Leaving the soul soil full of clumps of soil mixed with blood. </p>
<p>	Technoblade was not softened by the overworld. <br/>If anything, he was made stronger by being left an outsider. The world may have been kinder but it did not make him want to rest. </p>
<p>	Honestly, he was kind of bored by the lack of a challenge. Once he learned each foe’s strategy, it was pretty easy to chop them down for every try they threw at him. So when it stopped being fun he’d just simply walked away. He wasn’t untouched of course, he had plenty of hits on him from the fight that he’d probably be nursing for a bit. But it was less than he really expected. </p>
<p>	From that day forward, the way they’d treated him there was different. He was respected, treated like he’d always lived there almost. It was nice, but it always felt undeserved. He hardly knew some of the pigs that had gone out of their way to learn how to greet him in another language. </p>
<p>	                   He really needed to get another Piglish dictionary.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>